A Whiskey Glass Half Full
by function
Summary: As the Legion makes way through the desert, a certain Frumentarius is happy to find treasure at the Mojave Outpost. Written for the Fallout Kink Meme.
1. Chapter 1

A small smirk, barely noticeable if you weren't very familiar with the wicked man, spread across the Frumentarius's face. Legionaries had tied up the women, lining them against the walls of the Mojave Outpost buildings. It was fairly quiet, most of their whimpers had given into defeat, which was certainly encouraged by the beatings inflicted upon them. The smirking man was pleased to see obedience so early in their capture. _These will make great slaves_, he thought.

It wasn't the easy capture or the effectiveness of the Legionaries' work that caused his smirk. Nor was it the breeze that brought sand to the eyes of the weak captives, helpless to wipe their itchy orbs clean as their bound hands jerked in response to the discomfort.

It was the sight of a particular woman, once brash and brazen, now slumped and sullen. Her hair, like fire, whipping in the wind. Her signature rattan hat was long gone, allowing the smirking man to see the softness of her cheeks, brushed in pink from the hot Mojave sun (or perhaps one too many whiskey shots). He admired her defiant scowl, pleased that she wasn't completely broken. He wanted the opportunity to do that himself.

The Legionaries had begun directing the captives away before the smirking man called for them to stop.

"This one," he said coolly. In an elegant raise of the hand he pointed to the pale angry specimen.

One of the younger legionaries brought her to him then swiftly returned to his fellows.

She dared to glare at the man, making his small smirk widen to a sick grin. Her blue bloodshot eyes only inspired amusement from him. She was silly to think herself threatening, while bound and hopeless. No more shotgun, no more Courier to save her this time. She was alone now, her life belonging to the Legion. No, not just the Legion. She now belonged to a noted Frumentarius, responsible for great justice across the Mojave.

"Do you remember me, dear Rose of Sharon Cassidy?" he asked, eyes piercing her core.

She responded with a snarl, giving no indication of either knowing the man or caring if she did.

"I am Vulpes Inculta."

He glided his calloused fingers along her cheek, pulling her chin up to better see her face.

"Well, let me just say that now, I am someone you will never forget."

* * *

><p>Cass could not understand the shit she had gotten into. It was one thing to be captured by cocksucking slavers, but to be singled out by a man with a dog on his head? His name, Vulpes, was vaguely familiar. Something to do with that courier she had followed around. Her sides ached from punches she received. She had attempted to shoot the scrawny skirted soldiers as they came in, all high and mighty, but her shotgun was snatched from her back before she got the chance. She had been surrounded, along with the other bar patrons that afternoon.<p>

"Anything I can help you find?" She was tied to a locker, sitting on the floor, staring mournfully at the smashed bottles of whiskey. All she heard were men shouting outside and Vulpes going through drawers and cabinets in the back of the bar.

"I'm sure there are some table scraps around if you're hungry. Maybe a bone or two you could chew on."

Vulpes liked her smart mouth. He found it funny that she wasn't quite aware of what was happening to her. That she was going to be his personal slave for working for that ridiculous courier. It wasn't enough to kill the thieving man that thought he could destroy Caesar's empire. Vulpes wanted to ruin his companions, too.

"Oh, I'm finding everything quite well, Miss Cassidy," he spoke in her ear, making her jump. She hadn't even heard him come up behind her.

He liked making her flinch and shift uncomfortably in her already uncomfortable position. He smoothed out her knotted red hair, placed his chin on her shoulder, cheeks touching. She froze, unprepared for such closeness. He listened to her quick shallow breaths for a few moments before speaking.

"I do find your antics amusing. But for reasons you do not know."

His voice vibrated through her shoulder and into her chest.

"Oh please, enlighten me, you dog-headed fucker. Why am I so funny to you?"

He moved from his crouched position behind her and straddled her thighs, hands firmly pressing down so she couldn't move, caught in his grasp. She noticed his dog hat was gone, revealing a sharp, angular face. His hair, thick and dark, did not match the age of his slightly worn face. There were thin lines spreading from the edge of his eyes and a harsh crease in the middle of his brow.

"You are funny because you are a foolish woman. You owned a caravan company, only to see it destroyed. You joined a courier, only to see him slaughtered by the righteous. And now you sit in a ruined bar, wrists bound, legs chained, and you tease your captor."

He sighed when she twisted against his body in a sad attempt to push him away.

"Fighting with me will only make it harder for you."

Vulpes moved his hand up her thighs to her waist. She felt her skin burn at his touch.

Her eyes looked everywhere but his, trying to avoid the heat between them.

She knew he was enjoying making her squirm, but she couldn't go without a fight. She pulled her head back as far as she could and slammed her forehead into his nose.

The force of her hit caused Vulpes to lose composure and fall back. Cass quickly pulled her knees to her chest and thrusted her feet at Vulpes, sliding him across the floor.

He looked at her, fairly surprised before chuckling loudly. _This is going to be more fun than I thought,_ he smiled to himself.

"Oh, profligate. One mistake after another. You are such a fun toy to play with." Blood dripped from the bridge of his nose, down his cheek. He got to his feet, not even bothering to wipe the blood from his face, and slowly stepped towards her.

The shouting outside slowed, as the soldiers waited for orders from their decanus.

"You are powerless, Miss Cassidy. From the moment your wrists were bound, you became a _captive_. If you attempt to flee, you will be a _captive _on the run. If, by some horrific change of events, Legion is dissolved and you become citizen to a new rule, you will be a former _captive_. That word now defines you, no matter which outcome. You have lost any control of your destiny and any identity you once claimed."

He rolled his broad shoulders, readjusting his frame.

"You know, I think you're the funny one here," Cass replied.

"Is that so?" Vulpes was pleased she continued her retaliation.

"I bet you think your dick gets bigger with every slave you round up. You've already fucked the NCR with it. The whole Republic is just crying about its torn asshole 'cause the blood that was spilled in this desert didn't work as any sort of lubricant. And now you're getting your jollies off by pickin on little old me? Tell Caesar that we get it. We all get that he's got a big beautiful cock. If he could just run on home and go fuck himself, that'd be great."

"I will be sure to give him your advice."

Vulpes untied her from the locker, careful to watch for kicking feet, and pulled her out the door.

Cass thought it would be a good idea to go limp, like a 3 year old avoiding bath time, make him drag her until he got tired. A swift kick in the stomach changed her mind.


	2. Chapter 2

Cass counted thirty-one captives total, walking defeatedly down the steep slope from the Mojave Outpost. She was kept separate, uncollared, and pulled along by a very young Legionary, not much older than 16. He was particularly uncaring, emulating the actions of his superiors to an ignorant extent. The boy jerked Cass along by her bound wrists, ignoring her frustrated protests and stumbles.

Vulpes had followed behind Cass and the young legionary on the long walk. When she spoke too much, he'd pinch her neck, enough that she'd squeal and squirm away from his grip. He was silent, though. He didn't speak to any soldiers or to Cass. Unless you were searching intently for the sound, not even his footsteps could be heard. Anytime Cass would look back, over her shoulder, his eyes would be staring right into hers, causing her face to flush. Her neck was red and puckered by the time they reached their destination.

They arrived in Primm by nightfall, stopping once to hydrate. Cass found herself speechless for the first time in her life. Legion tents dotted both sides of the town. Each red cloth hitting her like bullets to the stomach. She had been in Primm the day before, telling the sheriff how nice he'd look on top of her, only to get twat blocked by some little farmer girl. Cass would've staked her claim if the sheriff hadn't been so bright-eyed at the brunette. In just a day, the town had been turned from a gambler's oasis to a Legion hell-hole.

* * *

><p>Cass continued to impress herself. Last week she won three games of Caravan against a disgruntled mercenary. Now here she was, running full speed from a Legion camp with only a small blade and tattered clothing to her name. She convinced the little punk legionary guarding the tent to let her take a piss. The asshole didn't know who he was dealing with and was left writhing on the ground, clawing pathetically for his stolen knife, trying to figure out which hurt worse - his now-concave balls or the bone jutting from his wrist. His mangled ear probably tickled in comparison.<p>

She made it to a small canyon north of Primm before stopping to catch her breath, thankful for the brightness of the moon. As she unraveled the rope from her wrists, the release of pressure only made the pink indentations burn. She lassoed the rope and tied to loosely to her belt loop. The fires of Primm left a thick smell in the air. Mostly wood burning, slight stings of melting plastic. In certain breezes, the faintest whiff of charring flesh filled her nostrils and told her of the capacity of her predicament.

Cass relaxed for a moment, allowing the burn of her tired legs to sink and subside. Leaning against the warm metal shell of a blown out bus, the heaves of her breath slowed. She needed to get a little further west before she would find safer roads.

_What the fuck does this Vulpes shit-slinger want with me? _She wondered. She rubbed the bruise forming on her ribs from the kick she received from the aforementioned fuckass.

Cass tried to think back on any time she spent with the courier that involved pissing off the Legion. There was a small camp she remembered surrounding with C-4 and an assassination attempt she thwarted with others at the 188 Trading Post. If she recalled correctly (which she did because she was only a _little_ drunk during those encounters) each soldier fought to their last breath. She even remembered the almost insignificant fight alongside the courier, in which they saw three recruits near an old gas station. She thought it would be fun to fire her shotgun to the melody of the song on the radio, which fortunately was not _Johnny Guitar_.

But those skirmishes weren't cause for such a unique reception from a seemingly important member of the Legion army. She didn't travel much with the courier at all. He sent her to the Lucky 38 after only a couple weeks. She rarely stayed at the creepy casino, honestly. Cass spent most of her leave getting trashed at the Tops.

The memory of him struck her, but didn't cause any sort of embarrassment or shame, like it would from other drunks. It was one of her first nights on the Strip with the courier and they were leaving the Tops after he finished some business doing... whatever he was doing. She headed straight for the bar when they got there. A few hours later, she followed the courier out, stumbling the entire way, only to be greeted by a very handsome gentleman in an awful brown suit. Cass remembers commenting on the stick up his ass, because she couldn't trust a sober man on the Strip in the middle of the night (or any time of day, really). There was something else she said that caused the looker to glance in her direction... something about-

A sudden pull of her body and a thin cold blade hit her throat and stopped all of Cass's thoughts.

"There you are," Vulpes breathed out against the back of her head.

* * *

><p>it's short, but wanted to update. for those thinking this is going somewhere else, it isn't. smut soon!<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

"You can give up now, Miss Cassidy."

"Well what fun would that be?" Cass growled, feeling his body lightly pressing into hers. How could a man so cold be releasing so much heat? It was as if he carried the Mojave sun on his skin. She pressed back against him (_for stability,_ she told herself).

Vulpes considered his options, while she clawed his arms. He had expected her to escape, of course, but not so soon. He wasn't disappointed, no. He was thrilled, in fact, to run for her retrieval, ordering the legionaries on her trail to return to camp. She was his _toy_ and should be his responsibility alone.

Cass was never trained for close combat like Vulpes, but she knew her way out of tricky situations. And this was a very tricky situation. The small knife in her boot was out of reach and his grip on her was loose. Too confident, maybe? No, this was a killer. He obviously wanted a fight.

Cass shoved Vulpes at the elbow, moving the knife away from her neck. She turned into his body and slid from his grasp. He responded with an effortless strike against her head, using the flat side of his machete. She groaned and stumbled from shock. Black and white sparks popped in her eyes, fading as quickly as they came. A ripple of pain expanded from her ear and around her skull. He was being careful not to kill her or damage her too severely, a courtesy she didn't plan on returning.

Vulpes clicked his tongue disapprovingly as he stepped toward her kneeling form. She grabbed his armed wrist to twist it and make him drop his blade. Instead he shoved his boot into her chest, sending her to the ground. The sharp rocks jabbing her spine encouraged painful coughs to stutter from her lungs. Her muscles stiffened as she pulled herself up from the sand.

Quiet. It was so quiet that the only sounds reaching Cass were her choking breaths and the ringing in her ears.

"I'm not even trying that hard. You are much less entertaining than I expected."

He placed his machete on the ground and pushed it away with his foot.

"I supposed I should make do."

Cass gritted her teeth and flagrantly pulled the knife from her boot. That near invisible smirk crept across the man's lips again.

Adrenaline poured through her, distilling the pain as Cass spun forward with her knife, using every tendon and bone to weave through Vulpes's defenses. The notched blade sliced along the outside of his thigh, sending blood down his bare leg. Legionaries were conditioned to handle such pain, but it didn't stop him from clenching his jaw in an attempt to distract his thoughts. Cass brought the knife back, slamming the handle into the pit of his knee. Her other fist slugged his stomach and Vulpes fell to his back.

Her relief was short-lived when he wrapped his foot around her ankle and dropped her flat. Their hurried movements left puffs of dirt clouding the air, coating their skin in rough grains. A vicious sandstorm was growing between them.

Those goddamn rocks were piercing her spine again, grinding against the most sensitive cartilage. Wind escaped her, causing her gut to twitch desperately. Vulpes yanked the rope from her hip and began trapping her arms to her sides. Her trembling chest provided unintentional assistance. He rose from her distressed writhing with a display of satisfaction.

"Am I man enough now, Miss Cassidy?" he asked. He smiled down at her with a truly amused smile and picked up the knife that had fallen from her hands.

That drunken night at The Tops with the courier flashed in her mind... She had kissed the cheek of that disgustingly sober brown-suited stud and said, "Maybe if you prove yourself to be a real man, I'll show you what it's like to have a real woman." She didn't know at the time that the man was a ruthless slaver. It wouldn't have made much difference if she did, though. With how much she had to drink that night, she would have just phrased it differently. Probably making a joke about male camaraderie before attempting to get in his pants, because why the fuck not? A lone Legion soldier couldn't get away with shit on the Strip and the tricks she knew could make any man renounce his god.

Cass felt painful throbs ricocheting throughout her body as Vulpes dragged her by the small tail of the rope. The stones showed no mercy, scraping against her skin and shredding her thin shirt. Pebbles embedded within the growing number of wounds. She dug her boots into the ground, hoping to catch something to stall her demise.

Vulpes was surprised by her lack of retort. He enjoyed all the crass witticisms that tumbled from those irritated lips. He was amused by her shamelessness. There were several nights he had come across her path on the Strip. He had seen her teach the male hookers how to properly grind a stripper pole. He watched her arm wrestle drunken soldiers for free beer. He had seen her sleeping on the steps of the Lucky 38, clutching her shotgun like a teddy bear, drool coating the barrel.

Nothing compared to the night he was leaving Freeside and he spotted her being harrassed by some foolish thug. Cass was drunk, he could tell by the way her legs wobbled just so. The tweaking man yelled out contaminated words in her direction, seemingly oblivious to the gun on her back.

It was more of a threat than a vulgar come-on, causing Cass to stop, smile at the filthy man, and casually aim the firearm. She explained to him the finer details of deep-throating a shotgun. _The key is to tilt your head back a little so your throat is in a straight line, _he heard her say. She fired a warning shot in the ground and made the poor man wet himself. Vulpes was slightly disheartened that she didn't kill him outright. But to each his own. He was charmed, nonetheless, by her angry snarl and retribution.

Yet here she was, reserving her voice for hisses and groans while being tugged like a miserable sap. They both knew she was more capable than that.

Cass was sweating heavily. Suddenly nausea adding to her list of ailments. She had gotten more roughed up fucking a ranger at Camp Golf, but her little tiff with Vulpes left her in such a worthless state. She kicked her legs even harder out of frustration, twisting over on her stomach and screaming as a piece of metal sticking up from the ground pulled across her chest.

"You are truly becoming a nuisance," he sighed and flipped her over to assess the long bleeding scratch. He stopped upon seeing the paleness of her face, cautiously waiting.

The sudden change in momentum pushed the bile in her stomach up through her esophagus, emptying pitifully at her side. The downward incline did little to help her puking. Cass was really trying the man's patience.

The scratch along her chest was only superficial, though a scar would remain. He had nothing on hand to clean the wound. Her entire body seemed to be covered in a mud mixed from her own blood and the desert sand. Vulpes almost wanted to take her there, in all her muck and grit. Rip her shirt open in a hungry fervor and wrap her legs around his waist.

Cass's dry heaves distracted his brief thoughts. Vulpes slowly pulled her into a standing position, not wanting to encourage any more of a mess. He carefully tore off the sleeve of her shirt, pulling it through the loosening binds of the rope. He folded it and began blotting at the scratch.

Her whole body swirled in pain and nausea and _ just need the upper hand... gotta get the upperhand. _There was a breeze and the smell of Primm in flames steadied her bones. She noted that she could breath much better when not being pulled around. Cass felt confused about her scream when she saw what little damage that piece of fucking pre-war leftovers did to her.

"What are you gonna do with me? Drop me on Caesar's doorstep as a present? Or maybe bury me in your yard and save me for later?" she asked while carefully jostling the ropes around her.

"There are several options. Perhaps I'll explain them when you're not expelling your insides," Vulpes answered plainly. He was more agitated than disgusted.

Then she saw that look in his eyes—wide and intent. Even on a man so seemingly emotionless and flat, the eyes always said what the mouth wouldn't. The surprise was that he gave her that look considering her appearance. Her hair was probably in some wild mane after being dragged for so long. She thought smelled like a dead bloatfly. _ Maybe he wants to rub his fur in me and be on his merry __way. _

There needed to be a change of tactics. She was too sick to beat his sorry ass. And as luck would have it...

"There's some prickly fruit over there. I'd be in much better shape if I ate something." Her stomach was still turning and her head started to spin, but she wouldn't give up just yet.

He glanced over, temporarily ceasing to clean her up. He turned back at her and narrowed his eyes.

"C'mon, boy! Fetch!"

He should have beat her then and there. Carved X's across her skin. Pinned her eyes shut with cactus needles. Cass was planning something and he knew it, but he was a curious one. So he simply retorted with a blow to her jaw and jerked her toward the cactus. He pushed her forcefully into the neighboring boulder, making her back dance with uncomfortable tinges. The torn sleeve was shoved into the front pocket of her jeans.

Looking back at the plant, he was pleased to see the lights of Primm just past it. It glowed a giant warning to whatever she had in store for him. He plucked the several fruits from the plant and placed them in the satchel on his belt. Vulpes sat quietly on the boulder opposite of her, watching her movements carefully. The rope wasn't nearly as tight as when he first wrapped her, but she stood as if still incapable, rolling her jaw around.

Vulpes was very careful with the fruit, even without keeping his eyes on it. He cut and peeled the spiny skin, letting the worthless slices fall. His hands worked delicately, each finger appeared to have a significant role. He rose to his feet again after he was finished and abruptly ceased inches before her wavering form.

He was going to have to feed it to her.


	4. Chapter 4

He decided to play dumb to her motives and watched as the first fruit was wholly devoured, seeds and all.

Cass needed anything edible to feel some sort of relief. Her stomach begrudgingly accepted it. Though, it twitched in anger because the liquid being spilled lacked an alcohol content. Her eyes closed in exhaustion, but her mind was busy designing her next move. She just needed to stall him. The closer she got to Primm, the further she was from freedom.

The second she ate in smaller bites, more slowly, allowing the juice to soak into her lips and drip down her chin. Goosebumps rose on her skin as the breeze caught the wet trail. With each nip of the fruit, she made the faintest of moans. The icy man needed some coaxing.

The third she began to eat and taste along with his fingers. She teasingly grazed her teeth and lips along his digits before nibbling on the fruit itself.

Vulpes could nearly smile at her audacity. Cass had occupied herself well in this endeavor _but to what end? _He thought.

He couldn't deny his desire to lick the juice from her neck and chin, consume her as she did the fruit in his hand. He wanted to bite that tongue of hers for the way she spoke to him.

If she wanted him to bow to her will, she was sorely mistaken. Vulpes was a man of restriction which he had already expressed with the rope around her, the pinches at her neck. He was also a man of games. He was excited by her challenging disposition. He knew he would win, of course, but he enjoyed the opponent nonetheless.

But what was this new game she was playing? What was her goal? Perhaps she expected pity from him or gratification that would lead to release. As if sex was all Vulpes wanted from this adventure. No, he wanted all of her-her thick red hair, her stubbornness, her inappropriate behavior.

If her goal was to be let go, Vulpes knew he would have to change her mind. She would be answering to _him_ after this was over.

As Cass took the last pieces of fruit in her mouth, she began sucking on Vulpes's wet fingers. Her tongue whorled around them and drained all the juice left coating his calloused skin. She sucked them like Vulpes was her only source of hydration in the entire desert. He was her oasis.

She withdrew her mouth and leaned against the boulder, face pointed at the sky. The stars winked in acknowledgment, though all she felt were knotted muscles and open wounds. She still smiled regardless when Vulpes seized her neck with his mouth.

He gnawed on her dirty flesh. Her salty sweat mixed with the prickly pear juice and turned her skin into a feast. With one hand, he pulled tightly on her hair, guiding her posture. With the other hand, he gripped her thigh, kneading it mercilessly.

For a few moments (or minutes or _hours_), Cass was lost and overwhelmed. Her insides sparked and warmed to his touch. She clenched her chest in fear because the moans trying to escape were too real—too honest. She focused her thoughts on freeing her arms, trying to pull that goddamn knife from his belt, and kicking him into the patch of cacti. But his hand moved like a sculptor up her thigh, pushing and pulling her meat. Vulpes was gradually molding her to his liking.

Cass freed both hands with subtle twists, letting one ring of the rope drop just an inch. If Vulpes noticed, he didn't let her know. She yanked his hips into her own. Her muddied fingers instinctively gripped the front of his waistband. In a moment of clarity, she used her pinky to feel around for the blade on his side. By then, his mouth had moved on to her breasts. She ground her teeth reluctantly, but it didn't satisfy her body's need to express what she was truly feeling. Fire billowed beneath her surface and she would only allow small pants of smoke break out.

He liked the metallic taste of her breasts, smeared with her own blood. He liked the way she pulled at him and crushed her body against his. He didn't like her timidity. She wasn't a dainty creature and he certainly was not treating her like one. But her voice was quiet and meek and all he wanted from her was a few loud screams. So Vulpes decided to withhold momentarily, keeping his hardened bulge between her thighs.

"Do not pretend that you object to what I am doing to you, Miss Cassidy," he warned against her ear. She shuddered at his hot breath.

Cass was clearly annoyed with how carefully he was unbuttoning her pants and near furious with how sluggish he was unzipping them. But he finally got that growl from her that he wanted when he put his hands at her waist and not on her clit where she thought they goddamn should have been. That way she could grab his knife while he was so distracted trying to make her come.

When he finally put his motherfucking hand between her legs, she swallowed her pride and cried out everything she had been keeping inside her chest. _For survival_, she told herself as she opened her thighs. She arched her body against him, letting the air hit her stinging back. She groaned at every sensation, angry at where the hands of fate had taken her in life. His fingers worked in perfect vibrant circles and her shaky hands clutched his shirt, trying to pull him closer. But he kept his distance, even when his muscles burned from the awkward strain of his wrist against the elastic of her underwear. She chewed her lips, hungry for his, but refused to lean forward.

Cass nudged her pants and let them fall to her knees. She pushed at her underwear, too, but Vulpes stopped her and continued his maneuvering.

"Fucking mongrel... motherfucking sonofabitch... good god just fuckmealready!" Her hands flew back to the rock behind her, nails digging into sediment. Vulpes slowed to a torturously gentle rub on her wet slit. He was dancing the line between pleasure and pain by the look of her face and the hitch of her breath.

He was on that same line himself, but he had watched her through lidded eyes. Each time she got sight of the red embers of Primm, she sobered and pulled harder. The rope around her merely rested, though she felt the need to play restrained. Vulpes knew she was inching toward his blade, trying to find the right moment to strike. He couldn't bring himself to remove the possibility of her grabbing it. It was a game and he loved the fight.

Cass expected him to take off her boots and pants, give her a good ol' face-to-face fuck-but that would have made it too easy. Instead, he turned her around and pulled down the rope, bunching it at her hips. Her arms were free, but he tugged the rope tight enough to make it dig into her flesh—securing it with a knot. She didn't react violently so he bent her over. Her forearms were against the boulder, hands clasped as if in prayer to an absent god.

"Yeah, you're gonna fuck me like the dog you are?" Cass spat.

"You are quite the charming profligate."

"Is that some kind of Legion dirty talk? 'Cause that shit won't work on me."

He smirked and tamely tugged down her underwear, exposing her fully. He steadied himself with his hand on her back, pressing into the clotted scrapes. She hissed and he liked that. He freed his stiff member and began stroking it with his other hand, still covered in her juices.

"I am going to show you how a real man fucks. How he makes his woman so wet not even her mind can resist him as he slides in." Vulpes dug his blunt nails into her skin. She moaned and he liked that, too.

"I am a real man, Miss Cassidy, whether you have found it proven or not." He stepped forward and found her entrance with the head of his cock, slightly adjusting to her height.

"I am going to fuck you the way a real man fucks a real woman."

Cass snickered. A thought rolled in her head and it turned into laughter. She was laughing at the ferocious beast behind her.

If Vulpes was a lesser man, he would have been embarrassed. He would have been more angry than confused by her reaction. She pushed off the rock and stood upright, turning to face him. He quickly placed on hand on his knife, while his other still held his dick. He was fully prepared for both possible outcomes.

"What is it that you find so amusing?"

Without taking her eyes off his face, she kicked off her boots and peeled off her clothes. There she was, naked and smiling at him.

"You've never fucked a real woman before, have you?"

He was quiet, but curious.

"Because a real woman fucks however she goddamn pleases." Granted Cass did enjoy it from behind, but she wasn't going to let him know that. She was going to kiss him, bite his lips, jerk him off the way she had wanted. No more of this one-sided bullshit. Screw the knife, she had a fucking point to make to this man.

Fighting through the soreness of her jaw, she started with his thin taut lips. She remedied their dryness with her own wet mouth, little nibbles here and there on his bottom lip. She ran her tongue over his teeth and each chunk of bone was a reminder of his brutality. Vulpes kissed her back just as ecstatically, tugging the rope around her.

Her kisses were the only sweet thing about her. She was too worked up to run away just yet and _goddamn_ he had pissed her off. And not just because of the whole, you know, _slavery_ thing, but because he thought that a real man would fuck a real woman without considering what the woman wanted. Hell, a real man drank alcohol. But he wasn't a real man and she knew that by now. He was barely as admirable as a dog. She saw him as a two-dimensional composition of the "men" in his society- blind to the grey in life and focusing on the black and white.

That didn't mean he wasn't beautiful to look at. When she ripped off his armor and pulled up his shirt, she was enamored with his sturdy form, pale and decorated in scars. She could have watched him for hours, just breathing. The way his tight chest heaved up and down in anticipation made her gasp. His shoulders were a landscape of hills and valleys-each muscle massive and round. She relished the dense tuft of hair on the dog-man's chest. _What else should I expect from a canine?_

After a few moments of art appreciation, she had somehow managed to get Vulpes down on the ground, sitting carelessly atop their mess of clothing. His skirt was gone and sand was getting in all the wrong places. He pushed the annoyance from his mind and admired the woman before him. He smirked at the smudges his mouth had made over her face and chest. It was nice to see the evidence of his work. The mark down her chest was still bleeding and the bruise was expanding around her ribs. He squeezed the bruise with a smile, causing another hiss from her gritted teeth. She sat back on his thighs—her knees on either side of him, pumping his cock and trying not to focus on her pounding headache. She tried to concentrate on her surroundings. It was eerily still, even with the constant breezes. She hadn't seen a nightstalker or coyote or even a bloatfly. The Legion had taken the life out of the Mojave.

She grew mournful of her new found privacy. The wasteland was dying again and she could see over the man's shoulder that the Legion scythe was reaping its soul. After Vulpes grew restless with her teasing, he lifted her up and eased her down on his hardened member. She wasn't very tight at first, but soon he could feel her squeezing her muscles around him. He let out an uncharacteristic groan at the intensity, which unnerved him. He was even more surprised by the depth at which she ground her hips into him, choking his cock with her wet insides. He didn't expect so much pleasure from this position, marred chest to marred chest, barely enough space to breath. He wasn't normally a greedy man, possessive, yes, but not greedy. But he could still taste the fruit on her tongue and words started tumbling from his lips and he was enamored by the way she dug her nails deep into his shoulders. The rope around her chaffed against him and her moans were intoxiating.

Vulpes didn't know she was crying for help. She was crying out for some evidence of life unconnected to the red bull flags. Even the sight of a radscorpion would bring her some semblance of hope. But there was nothing. No tumbleweed, no faint murmur of hungry molerats. Nothing. Only Vulpes. Only herself. Only the sound of joining hips. Cass wasn't the kind of woman to cry, but the fury growing within her had to find the surface somehow. Every thrust of his hips reminded her of the pain the desert wrought. She saw the faces of her loyal employees, burned to ash by the Van Graffs and Alice McLafferty. She saw the empty lifeless bodies of those same bastards, contorted and bloodied beneath her. She saw Sgt. Kilborn hanging from the barracks ceiling, feet dangling and eyes bulged out. She saw Vulpes, murmuring into her neck about how fantastic she feels and how he'll never share her with anyone else.

While caught in her thoughts, Cass squeezed the knife wound in his thigh and he grunted heavy and low, but he did nothing to stop her. In return, he crushed her hips in his hands, making new bruises on her pale flesh. He was caught off guard when she gripped both hands around his neck, wringing his throat. Her mewling sounded more like frustrated groans, but even in the heady daze of sex, he grabbed the knife from his belt and sliced down her thigh as a warning. She cried out, but kept meeting his thrusts. Blood pouring down her thigh, she started to feel helpless and out of control for the first time with a man between her legs.

But it was too late. She had gone on far too long without giving in to the hand she had been dealt. She pushed Vulpes back to the ground. He fingered her fresh wound and she clawed into his chest, breaking open his skin. Their noises became an orchestrated mix of pleasure and pain—the line once previously teased was now being tortured and splayed.

Vulpes was inebriated by her pulsing muscles, massaging his thick cock. He was thankful for her violent outbursts—it helped him stay restrained. Yet, he still wanted to yank her hair, throw her around, and inflict some more damage. It felt necessary. She was bringing out all the best and worst feelings in him. He wanted control. He wanted to intoxicate _her_. He wanted to infiltrate _her_ thoughts and taint her with _his _body. But her conflicting actions left him with a strange infatuation. She savagely tore the skin on his chest and tugged at her nipples. She further opened his wounded leg and played with her clit, moaning and shivering. There was a combination of red and lust in her eyes that he couldn't fully decipher while she moved above him the way she did.

So he slapped her hard, right across her face. She winced and sound dulled for a moment, a sharp pain spiraling out. But it felt good. Cass needed a distraction from the sight of the wastes. She leaned forward, giving Vulpes one smooth flat lick up his neck. She swirled the sand and dirt on her tongue and spit it right in his eye. He gave her one last rough thrust and shoved her off. She fumbled back and slung sand in his face.

Vulpes didn't know how to react when she went back to fingering herself, rope still scratching into her hips while she moaned with her head tossed back. _Does she really want punishment? Is she that sick? _He wondered. Maybe she enjoyed the torment. Maybe she wanted all those pinches on her neck. Maybe that's why she gave in so easily when he dragged her away by the rope. Maybe she wanted to be his toy all along. It started to make sense to Vulpes. He understood why she teased him, snapped at him, left the camp without a formidable escape plan. This was a profligate—a degenerate. Having a penchant for abuse was a part of who she was and he would give her what she wanted. Only because it was what he wanted, too.

He tugged her by the hair and flipped her on her knees. She perked up and braced for impact. There was a swell of devestation in her gut, finding purchase on her bones. Its stability was short-lived as Vulpes drove himself into her, without opposition. The madness slowly wrapped itself around her insides, swinging from marrow to marrow. It scattered through her firing synapses, only distracted by Vulpes yanking her arms back and letting her head slam into the sand. The weight of her body smothered her lungs as she choked on dust and grit. He held her wrists tight at the base of her spine, bucking into her with sharp grunts. Cass needed more pain from him. She needed her attention to be anywhere but in her own head where the blend of desperation and rage ruptured her foundation. She needed to come. She needed a release from the build-up of provocations and regrets. He was pushing goosebumps across her skin in waves of acoustic pleasure, vibrating the fine hairs on her arms and legs. His warm ruddy thrusts numbed the wounds across her back, her bleeding thigh, her throbbing head. Vulpes released her wrists and clutched a tuft of her hair, his rhythm becoming erratic. She quickly reach between her thighs and moved her fingers in just as chaotic circles. The relieving twist of fire inside her grew and erupted just before Vulpes followed.

She reached blindly into the pocket of her jeans and retrieved her bloodied torn sleeve and cleaned herself as shamelessly as possible with him in full view. He spanked her with enough force that she fell to her side, both of them panting and trying to steady their vision. Cass stood first, haggardly picking at the knot in the rope around her and letting the rough cord drop to her feet. Vulpes was less cautious than before, now that he had a better understanding of the sharp-tongued woman. She hissed as she brought her jeans up her damaged thigh and he smiled at the thought of them sharing a similar mark from their encounter (_the first of many,_ he decided). Her posture realigned as she buttoned her ruined shirt. The mud in her eyes was gone and her vision was clear again. Everything was perfectly crisp around her. She felt no need for words or retorts. She was calm and content for the moment.

A clicking noise echoed around the canyon, bouncing subtly from rock to rock. Vulpes was still breathing heavy and redressing himself. Cass smiled. There was hope. There was the light of freedom she needed. It called to her with such a beautifully lethal sound. She would drink to this night for the rest of her life. She would take a shot of whiskey for this music-maker, dance to the tune of its threats. Just as Vulpes was pulling his armor around his chest, Cass saw her new god—her new source of life. She pulled the knife from Vulpes's belt and kicked him back into the path of the giant radscorpion. Without thought she sprinted through the canyon, pushing through the pain of her wounds and her agitated insides. Her muscles burned but she kept running. She didn't stop until she puked and collapsed about 8 miles out at an old gas station that smelled like burnt shit covered in dead gecko. She slept in the cabinet behind the check-out counter, fighting nightmares because escaping was only the beginning.

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><p><em>AN:share thoughts please! I'm still a writing-n00b. the OP on the meme asked for a vulpes/cass pairing so I tried to make it as honest as I could while still having dub-con love. _


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